


Mistletoe

by Hello_Spikey



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Party, Christmas Presents, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-03
Updated: 2013-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-26 05:46:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17740151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hello_Spikey/pseuds/Hello_Spikey
Summary: There's a great gob of mistletoe at the Wolfram and Hart Christmas party, and Spike intends to make the most of it.





	Mistletoe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [verucasalt123](https://archiveofourown.org/users/verucasalt123/gifts).



> This is for verucasalt123 who requested "Some Spike/Wes lovin' with a little holiday atmosphere?"
> 
> And lo - it came. A little late. There may have been egg nog involved. And whiskey. And... being a slacker. *cough cough*

Wolfram and Hart’s Christmas extravaganza was not planned by Lorne that year, but left to the traditional soulless minions of orthodoxy that had, no doubt, planned it every year since the Restoration with the same bleak tastefulness. Stylized trees in white glass managed to glow without a hint of cheerfulness on snowy expanses of table linens, the only color in the place provided by unreasonably geometric formations of greenery – fresh, of course. Though Spike did take note of the basketball-sized globe of mistletoe strategically hung in the doorway.  
  
He scoffed taste as best he could, having pierced one ear specifically for the night so he could dangle a jingle bell and donned the most festive punk t-shirt the resale shop at the end of the block could provide. Not exactly inconspicuous in the austere ballroom, he nonetheless considered himself lying in wait, sipping whisky and watching the spot directly below the mistletoe.  
  
Angel caught sight of him right away, paused, glanced up, gave Spike his best “You’ve got to be kidding me” smirk and made a wide berth of the area. Spike gave him a two-finger salute.  
  
Next came Harmony with a tray stacked with little silver boxes. Spike plucked the tray from her with one hand and used the other to bend her back for a deep and long kiss. When he let her go, he smirked in pride at the pleased expression on her face. She was almost blushing when she asked for her tray back. “But I can totally come back, after I deliver these.”  
  
He turned around from giving her his best lascivious promises to find he’d almost missed Gunn passing into the kiss-zone. Spike grinned and advanced on the lawyer. Gunn looked about to smile and say hello, but as Spike continued approaching, mouth open and arms spread, Gunn’s smile faded to confusion and then fear. Then he glanced up. “Oh no. Oh HELL no.” He held out two hands.  
  
“I don’t make the rules, Charley,” Spike said. “It’s tradition.”  
  
“We have a harassment policy, and I will make you fill out forms!”  
  
Spike got two handfuls of wool gabardine covered ass and landed a loud, wet smooch on Gunn’s cheek.  
  
Gunn slapped his way out of the hold. “Gah! Man, you are nasty!”  
  
“Merry Christmas,” Spike cheered, laughing as Gunn vigorously scrubbed his cheek.  
  
Nothing like mischief to make a vampire feel merry. He spun on his heel to scan for his next victim, only to find Wesley staring right at him from the buffet table. Eyes like laser beams. Now there, thought Spike, was a bloke who could use a kiss. In fact, it would be a public service to crack the icy, intense façade Wes had worn since Fred’s death. Nay, a moral imperative! Spike mimed a kiss at Wes, whose scowl changed not in the slightest. Well, Wes might have snuck into the party before Spike staked out the mistletoe, but chances were good he couldn’t make it through the night without forgetting and wandering into range. Spike would be vigilant. He nodded, pointed from his eye to Wes and back again.   
  
Wes picked up a Swedish meatball and moved on, paying no further attention.  
  
Spike followed him along the buffet, and that was why he didn’t notice Illyria until he bumped into her hard form. Oddly, she was carrying a stack of brightly-wrapped boxes, that scattered on the floor with hollow sounds on their impact.  
  
“Your presence is disruptive as always,” Illyria said, looking at him like a muddy patch on the sidewalk.  
  
Spike picked up one of the boxes, glittering red paper with a green gauze bow. “Presents, Blue?” He jiggled it. “Feels empty.”  
  
“My observations have shown that it is the packaging that excites amusement in the lower forms. I did not feel it necessary to complicate the process by adding the customary purchase of unneeded or unwanted consumer products. That one is yours.”  
  
“Oh. You’re all heart, Leery.” He leaned in to give her a kiss, and the impact of her knuckles sent him flying back to the front of the hall.  
  
Spike blinked away stars to see he was directly under the ball of mistletoe, and the empty present was still clutched in his hands, though a little worse for wear.  
  
Wesley stood over him, lips compressed in the tightest, coldest smile. “I don’t think even Angel would have guessed you were that foolish. Come on,” He hooked a hand on Spike’s elbow to help him up.  
  
Spike quickly regained his equilibrium. He licked his lower lip and purred, “Mistletoe, Wesley.”  
  
Wes gave him a glare that would have withered poinsettias on the spot, to say nothing of the heartier mistletoe. “It’s a parasite.”  
  
“Yeah, but a pretty one,” Spike offered, smoothing his shirt in front of his tightly-fitting shirt.  
  
“No, you idiot. The decoration is concealing a demonic parasite that feeds on lustful thoughts. Lorne is gathering components I need to banish it but in the meantime you’re bloody gorging the thing.”  
  
Spike blinked, slowly coming around to the possibility he wasn’t going to get a taste of watcher stubble any time soon. “Uh… oh. Uh… how’d that one slip by the crack security team?”  
  
“How indeed,” Wes ground out, and stalked back toward the buffet.  
  
Spike hurried after him. “Unless of course that was a load of bollocks you just came up with to avoid the best kiss of your life.”  
  
“It would hardly be that,” Wes said, not even glancing back.  
  
“Either way. I don’t see the danger. With a wet blanket like you in the room, poor demon’s probably starving.” Spike grabbed Wesley’s arm and pulled him around, landing a hard, probing kiss before the watcher could resist. He was stiff, then, one hand waving, he made a token resistance.  
  
Then Spike’s ass hit the buffet table, propelled there by Wesley’s urgently pressing groin wile Wesley’s stubble-lined mouth devoured Spike’s, making the vampire laugh at the sensation of rough and smooth, hot and cold. Wesley didn’t much care for the laughing, Spike guessed, by the way he pulled back, slapped Spike, and then grabbed his wrists, slamming them (and him) into the buffet table with a satisfying clatter of plates and cutlery.  
  
“Why, Wes!” Spike crowed, losing no time wrapping his legs around the watcher and enjoying the delicious friction building up between them.  
  
“You’re insolent and thoughtless,” Wesley said, somehow making it sound like a compliment, “And I’ve half a mind to…”  
  
A piercing wail interrupted him. He glanced over his shoulder, distractedly. “Oh bugger.”  
  
The mistletoe ball had cracked like an egg, leaves and stems littering the dance-floor as a sinewy bat-like creature crawled out of it.  
  
“Oh,” said Spike. “So that was true, then.”  
  
Wesley’s eyes sparked with a million filthy promises as he pushed off of Spike and regained his feet. “Find Lorne. He should be coming from the direction of my office.” Wes then held up one hand and started chanting.  
  
Spike hurried as best he could with his suddenly too-tight jeans impeding him, the sounds of destruction and shouting behind him.  
  
It was a hurried, frustrating battle, during which Spike landed in a puddle of punch-and-glass more than once, but in the end, as Wesley tied him down and gave him a thorough seeing to, Spike concluded that mistletoe was still, in his estimation, the most brilliant of all Christmas traditions.


End file.
